


The Captive Princess

by Aelia_D



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Dom/sub, Explicit Sex, F/F, Kidnapping, Lesbian Romance, Petplay, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Snuggling, Some Plot, Teratophilia, gentle domination, women with penises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 04:55:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15135566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aelia_D/pseuds/Aelia_D
Summary: A human princess is kidnapped by an orc warchief. She's dragged off to the stronghold where the warchief gives her an choice; become her pet, or get ransomed back to the royal family.





	The Captive Princess

You’re in the garden with a favorite book when the orcs attack. The only warning you have of the raid is a few shouts, and then the huge, green-skinned warriors are surging through the gates, overwhelming the guards, and spreading over the manor grounds. You look around, but there’s nowhere to hide, and you’ve dismissed your guards. It’s not like you expected trouble.

Of course, trouble finds you easily.

A tall, broad-shouldered orc-woman charges toward you. The axe in her hand gleams in the sunlight. You try not to focus on the blood already staining the blade. She’s dressed in leathers and rough-hewn metal armor. It gleams dully in the sun. Your knees go weak as she towers over you.

You meet her dark, glittering eyes with as calm a gaze as you can muster while you wait for your death, but she doesn’t strike. Instead, she regards you for a long moment.  You, in turn, take her in.

Her tusks are sharp and clean, jutting up past her lip in the way of orcs. Her pointed ears are pierced in multiple places. Her long hair is dark, pulled back in neat braids, some are tipped with beads. Her nose is crooked, from where it’s been broken before and re-healed, and a golden hoop pierces one nostril. Her crooked nose and the high arch of her brows gives her a sardonic air. Her lips are full, and look soft, almost pouty. They twitch upward in a bit of a smirk as she recognizes the way you study her. There’s something familiar about her, though you haven’t met her before. You can’t place it, but it lodges in the back of your mind.

“Who are you?” She finally asks, in heavily accented common. Her question interrupts your thoughts.

You debate lying, claiming to be someone less important than you are– not that you are particularly important, as the tenth child of the King. He has many sons and daughters in line for the throne before you, and as a younger daughter, your greatest importance to your kingdom is helping to make a good alliance. Ultimately you know the truth will come out, so you admit that you’re a princess.

She nods. And then she grabs you and slings you over her shoulder. Her hand cups your rear, holding you steady. You feel the way her fingers spread over your bottom, taking liberties that should not be afforded to a stranger. You squirm, not quite resigned to such an undignified fate.

“Hold still and be quiet,” she says, spanking you.

You squeal, but you still. You are in no way prepared to escape her. And, if you’re honest with yourself, there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to. She’s beautiful, and commanding, and enough of you is enjoying this that for a moment it’s easy to forget the unhappy, brutal fate of most Orc captives.

She shouts something in Orcish, and the other warriors begin to withdraw from the manor. They fall into a loose formation around her. Soon, you’re all moving away, rapidly. If any of the guards from the manor follow, you don’t hear anything. You wonder how long it will take for them to realize you’ve been kidnapped. You wonder what the response will be. Will they mount a rescue attempt, or wait for a ransom letter?

It’s not a comfortable journey. Her shoulder digs into your belly, and your head being upside down makes you feel queasy as you bounce along. Her hand though, you can feel through your skirts as she caresses your rear.

Perhaps an hour passes before she sets you down. A circle of orc warriors surround you. Your captor smirks down at you. A shiver passes through you.

“Princess,” she says. “I, Glasha, Warchief of the Skullfang Clan, do claim you as my spoils from this battle. None of my clan shall raise hand to harm you.”

You gaze up into her face, and realize that you trust her.

“Alright.” You reply, though you’re not sure your response is actually needed or expected.

Regardless, Glasha nods. One of the orcs from the circle steps forward and hands her something. She nods at them, and then turns back to you.

“This collar marks you as mine.” She says. She steps forward, a small leather collar in her hands. You hesitate for a moment, unsure whether you’re okay with this or not. Glasha pauses, not forcing the issue.

The fact that she waits, that she hasn’t actually harmed you, is what makes you nod. You look into her face as she steps closer and puts the collar around your throat. She buckles it snug. You can still breathe easily, but it’s tight enough that you’re going to constantly feel it; there will be no forgetting that this collar is here. She meets your eyes, gives you a small smile. And then she steps back.

The moment is over.

Glasha shouts something in Orcish. Her troops roar something back. The rest of the day is something of a blur. The squad has horses, and for the second leg of your journey, you sit in front of Glasha. She keeps one arm wrapped around you, the other holds the reins of her horse. You relax against her, and at times, you think you must doze. Eventually they make camp, laying out bedrolls around a fire. Someone starts cooking stew. A few tents are propped up, but it seems most of the orcs prefer to sleep directly under the stars.

You stay close to Glasha. You’re not sure what’s expected of you, but you know that it’s because of her that you’re here. A huge orc man gives you a blanket and you wrap yourself in it gratefully. Another brings two bowls of stew over, handing one first to Glasha, and then to you. Someone else gives you a mug full of ale.

Quietly, you eat and drink. You’re not being treated the way you would expect; neither as a hostage nor a prisoner. You’re not bound, and in fact you’ve been given something resembling the treatment of an honored guest.

“Are you ready to sleep?” Glasha asks, when your bowl is empty.

“Yes, I think so.” You say.

She rises, and offers you a hand. When you take it, she pulls you to your feet, but doesn’t immediately release you. You notice the calluses across her palm, the warmth of her hand against yours, the way she seems to almost dwarf you. She’s looking down at you, something inscrutable in her gaze, and for a long moment you just stare back. Again, you’re struck with that sense of recognition. There’s something about her that’s familiar. Perhaps that’s why you feel so at ease with her when you know you shouldn’t.

Glasha tugs you close, and you fall against her. Her free hand caresses your cheek, and you think she is going to kiss you. You imagine her bowing her head, pressing her lips to yours. Want flares low in your belly, and parts of you stir with arousal at the thought. But she doesn’t, and the moment passes. Instead, she scoops you into her arms, and carries you off to a tent.

Outside the tent, she places you on your feet. The fire is just far enough away that everything is cast in shadow, and you can’t see the details. You turn, and open the flap. Inside is a bed made of furs and blankets, and a satchel full of what you suspect are Glasha’s belongings.

“Are we both sleeping here?” You ask. There’s a tremor in your voice, and whether it’s nerves or excitement you couldn’t say. Perhaps it’s a bit of both. You want her and fear this in equal parts right now. You don’t know where you stand, and you recognise that you are a prisoner, for all that they’re treating you kindly.

“Yes,” Glasha says. “It’s that, or tie you up.”

There’s that surge of arousal in your belly again, but you shove it aside. You don’t need to delve into the parts of your brain that find the idea of Glasha tying you up to be exciting. Instead you make yourself nod.

“Alright.”

You enter the tent, removing your shoes so they stay outside, and settle on the edge of the bed. Glasha is right behind you, pulling off her boots, and her outer armor, stripping down to just her underthings. A breastband and some leather leggings. You see an expanse of bare skin, muscular and beautiful. She’s got scars, and you imagine each of them has a story.

“Do you wish to sleep in your dress? If not, I have a tunic.”

You’re certain the tunic would be more comfortable, and there’s an appeal to that, but there’s a risk to taking off your dress. You hesitate for a long moment. Despite everything, you like Glasha, and you think she likes you, too. You feel safer with her than you probably should, all things considered. But you’re not ready to risk everything yet, not when your life is literally in her hands, and everything is so tenuous.

“I’ll sleep in my dress, but thank you.” You say, mustering a small smile.

“Alright,” she says. She gets into the bed, stretching out, and making space for you. It’s clear she intends to be the “big spoon” and hold onto you. So you lay down next to her, and close your eyes. One large arm wraps around you, pulling you against her.

She smells nice. Not like you’d expect, from her having attacked a manor this morning and spent the entire day on horseback with a captive. It’s vaguely floral, something light and sweet. She’s all business, and it seems so soft compared to her. But, as she relaxes into sleep behind you, you think it suits her.

You try to place what it is about her that’s so familiar for a while. Nothing concrete comes to mind. Your thoughts circle for a while before you finally drift off.

When morning comes, you’re woken by an Orc outside the tent, saying something to Glasha. She’s still in bed with you. You’re curled around her, your head on her shoulder, your legs twined with hers. Her fingers run through your hair, which has come loose and is probably a disaster. Her dark eyes catch yours, and she smiles at you.

She says something to the orc outside, clearly dismissing him.

“Princess,” Glasha says. Her voice is husky with morning, and what you think might be need. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

You nod, and your eyes fall shut. Her lips slant over yours, claiming your mouth, her tusks scratch against your cheeks, and her tongue invades your mouth. You know you mewl against her, and hear a noise of approval rumble from her.

She pulls away, leaving you panting and wanting more. Her skin is flushed, and she clearly wants more as much as you do. She leans close and nibbles on your earlobe. You moan.

“If I don’t stop now, I won’t stop until I’ve claimed you fully,” she murmurs, her tusk brushing the sensitive spot beside your jaw. “And I’d prefer to do that in a real bed.”

“Please,” you breathe. You don’t know what you’re begging for, but you know you’re begging for something. Is it more right now? Is it something later? Spirits but you have no idea.

“Such a dirty girl,” she murmurs again. She presses a kiss to your forehead, your nose, your lips. It’s oddly tender, and leaves you aching for more. “Such a good girl. But we’re going to wait.”

She detangles herself from you and the blankets, and rises from the bed. Your eyes rove over her hungrily, taking in her beauty and strength. Glasha is gorgeous, and though you’re still not sure where you stand, you know you’re attracted to her. She pulls on her gear, armor and boots. She catches your eyes, and looks back at you, the heat in her gaze banked to a low simmer, but it’s still there.

You blush hard, and look away.

You pull on your shoes, and attempt to neaten your hair and shake some of the wrinkles out of your skirts. You’re far from dignified, but you’ve also been kidnapped and dragged across the countryside, so you imagine things could be much worse right now.

Glasha steps closer, and runs her fingers through your hair, which falls in loose waves around your shoulders. You lean into her touch, your eyes fluttering shut. Her fingers drift through your hair one more time, then settle on your shoulders and turn you around. With a bit of gentle tugging, and a few moments of effort, she settles your hair into a plait.

“Thank you,” you say.

“Welcome,” she responds. “Let’s get moving.”

This day passes in much the same way as the previous; you’re settled on the horse in front of Glasha. There’s a few breaks for food and other necessities. You don’t quite doze, but you let your mind drift. There’s no point in trying to track where you are; even if you escaped, you’d never survive on your own.  

In the early afternoon, Glasha begins asking you questions about yourself. Simple things, asking about your interests. When you tell her that you like reading, she begins asking about books you like. You find that she’s actually a clever conversationalist, and it makes it even easier to relax in her company.

Evening brings the signs that you’ve reached an Orcish stronghold. The walls are heavy stone, but the standards flying above the walls denote that it belongs to the Orcs. You don’t recognize the writing. You intensely regret not studying the Orcish language. The guards come to attention as you enter, offering proper respect to Warchief Glasha.

You fight the urge to shrink back against her, instead lifting your chin and holding yourself with the dignity expected of one of your rank. You’re a princess and you will act like one. There’s a definite reaction to you riding in on the Warchief’s horse, but you don’t know enough about their culture to know what it is.

The fort is laid out much like you would expect from the walls; it’s old but functional. Some buildings have been shored up with new stone, some with wood. There are stables for the Orcs’ horses, and housing throughout. Glasha dismounts, and lifts you down.

“You’ve been a good girl so far. I expect you to continue,” she says to you. Then she clips a leash to your collar. You startle a bit at her presumption, but don’t fight her. There are a lot of eyes on you, and though you’re not sure what this means, your reflex is to trust Glasha.

She leads you across the open yard, up some stone steps, and into the main building of the fort. You’re lost in a bit of a daze as she continues leading you through the building, up more stairs, and into what you assume is her bedroom.

It’s comfortably decorated; her large bed takes up the center of the room. There’s a sitting area near a fireplace, and a desk near the windows. A huge wood wardrobe dominates one wall. The furniture is old enough that you imagine it is actually from the original owners of the fort. Glasha crosses the room, taking a seat at the desk.

“I took you for several reasons,” she says, crossing one leg over the other and meeting your eye. “I had made an offer for marriage to you, you may recall.”

You don’t remember it, but then, if they declined it your parents probably wouldn’t have bothered telling you about it. Your value to your family is purely in that you can be used to make an alliance. You know this, and yet, the fact that Glasha had offered for you before gives you a fluttering feeling in your stomach.

“I thought about revenge,” she continues, “But once I saw you, I knew that wasn’t what I wanted. I want you. I want to make you my pet.”

You open your mouth to ask what that means, but no words come out. Based on the collar and leash, you can make some guesses. It’s not something you’ve heard of, but you’re not exactly averse to it, if the past days with Glasha are any indication of what is to come.

“That said, I don’t want an unwilling pet.” Glasha picks up a small stack of books from the desk. “These will educate you about what a pet is, and give you an idea as to my expectations. When you have questions, you are welcome to ask them of me.

“I will be busy during the day; being warchief keeps me busy. You do not have free run of the fort, but you will have a guard who will let you know where you are and are not allowed. You are welcome to the library and my rooms to start. This will expand as you earn my trust.

“In the evenings, we will eat dinner together. This is when you may ask questions. I give you a fortnight to make a decision. If you decline, I will ransom you back to your parents, safe and healthy.

“At night you will sleep here in my rooms, but until you have made a decision, you will have your own bed.” Glasha gestures to a folding screen, which you haven’t noticed before. You expect that if you were to look behind it, you would find a bed. Perhaps more.

“Do you understand?”

You manage to nod.

“Excellent. I encourage you to get to reading then. I will see you for dinner in an hour or so.” She leans down, presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “There are clean gowns in human sizes in the wardrobe. You are welcome to any of them.”

* * *

You spend the next two weeks reading and learning what might become your home. Glasha eats with you nightly, answering your questions, and getting to know you better. Your access to the fort increases daily; by the end of two weeks, you’ve got access to all of the “civilian” portions of the buildings. You’re picking up common orcish, and you’re getting to know the people who live here.

You like Glasha a lot. She’s been thoughtful, taking care of you, and showing that she can anticipate your needs. She’s a wonderful conversationalist, and you enjoy her sense of humor. You think you could come to love her.

“So,” Glasha says, glancing at you over your private dinner. “Have you made a decision?”

“I don’t know,” you say. “I understand what I’ve read, and the drawings were helpful…” You blush, thinking about some of the illustrations in one of the books. “But I’m still not certain.”

“What can I do to help you decide?” Glasha asks.

She’s been perfectly polite, respecting your boundaries, letting you set the pace of your relationship. She hasn’t pushed even once. You fidget, trying to decide if you’re really going to ask what you think you’re about to.

“Can we try it? Without me committing to anything permanent? Just one night?” You feel your skin burn as you flush. You cannot believe you’re asking to be someone’s pet, even for a night. But here you are.

“If that is what you like.” Glasha smiles gently. “We can play tonight, and tomorrow you can give me a final decision.”

“Yes, please.” You say.

“What is your safeword, pet?”

“Strawberry?”

“That works.”

“Is there anything you know you don’t want to do?” Glasha asks. “Any limits you want to set? Anything you don’t like?”

“I don’t think so?” You think. “I’ll say something if I need to.”

“Please. Your comfort is important,” Glasha touches your hand from across the table. You meet her eyes and see she’s earnest. “If you’re unsure about anything tonight, let me know.”

Glasha rises from the table, and crosses the room. There’s a locked chest in the corner, one you haven’t fussed with since you first discovered it wouldn’t open. She removes a key from her pocket, unlocks it with a ‘click’ and opens the lid. “Come here, pet.”

You approach tentatively. Inside are all sorts of items, some you can guess at from your reading, others, you have no idea what they’re for. Glasha removes several items, leather ears on a band, a tail, and a small bottle from inside, and turns to you.

“For tonight, what will you be?”

“Your pet,” you say. She nods, and slides the band on, so the ears are on top of your head. Her hands slide down your cheeks, and caress you gently. You lean into it. Your eyes flutter shut, and you just enjoy the feeling.

“My good girl.” Glasha practically purrs. She continues stroking you, her hands running through your hair, along your cheeks, down your neck. You gradually relax under her touch. “Is my good girl ready for the next step?”

“Yes,” you reply, your voice already a bit dreamy.

“I want you to take off your clothes.” She says.

Your eyes fly open. Your gaze meets hers, but she’s still calm, still caressing you gently. She waits, not saying anything, not coaxing you further, letting you decide if you want to or not. Bit by bit you begin to relax again.

When it becomes clear that Glasha truly isn’t going to push even this, it becomes easier to trust her. Glasha’s hands are running along your body, still soft and gentle, leaving a trail of warmth in her hands’ wake.

It doesn’t take long to remove your overdress. It takes even less time to strip down to your chemise. Glasha steps back and watches, that small smile teasing her lips. When you’re in the last pieces of clothing, you bite your lip. You want to do this. You do. With the last of your courage, you remove everything, baring yourself to her.

“You’re lovely, my pet.” She murmurs, her gaze roving over you with admiration. “Such soft, beautiful skin.” She runs her fingers along your arm. “Such a dainty figure.” She circles your nipple with a fingertip until it stiffens. “Such perky little nipples.” Her hand just brushes your cock. “Such a pretty little penis.”

Glasha returns to petting you, her hands running from the top of your head down your back, soothing you once more as you stand naked before her.

“Are you ready for your tail, pet?” She asks.

You know what she means. It’s a furred tail attached to a plug that goes in your bum. There were many of those in your books. You close your eyes and nod, focusing on the feel of her hands as she runs them over you. She’s gentle, stroking you carefully.

“Bend over the bed then.” You take a few steps, and plant your hands in the softness of her bed.

Glasha’s hands resume stroking you, running along your sides, your back, your butt. You breathe shakily. It’s hard to hand your trust over, but everything she has done since she kidnapped you has proven that Glasha deserves that trust. Bit by bit you relax again.

You hear her open a bottle.

“This might be a bit cold,” she says softly a moment before you feel liquid pour over your rear. It’s cool, but not uncomfortably so. It’s just a strange sensation. Then her finger is there, pressing against you, slow, but steady. “Breathe, pet. Try to relax.”

One of her hands continues smoothing along your back as the other presses into you. You focus on your breathing, on the softness of her hand as it smooths over your back. With something you almost feel is a ‘pop,’ her finger is in you, thrusting in and out gently. It doesn’t hurt, it’s just strange.

“You’re doing so good.” she says, still smoothing one hand along your back. “Such a good girl. I’m going to add another now.”

She does, working it in just as gently as the first, taking it slow, soothing you the whole time. Her murmurs of praise and her hand smoothing along your back keep you calm as the weirdness begins to turn into pleasure. Your breathing soon becomes ragged, needy.

“Is my good girl ready for more?” Glasha asks, leaning down so she’s speaking right into your ear.

“Yes,” you say.

“I think when good pet speaks, she should say please, and call me Mistress,” she says. Her voice is rough with desire, you love the sound of it. You love that you’re turning her on.

“Yes please, Mistress,” you repeat.

“Good girl,” she says. She moves away from you, and a moment later you feel the round, cold tip of the plug attached to the tail pressing at your entrance. “Keep breathing, pet.”

You do, and before you know it, it’s eased in. Your body pulls it in hungrily, and you gasp.

“Let me look at you,” she says.

You stand up, and turn around slowly, letting her look. You’re aroused, and you know it shows. When Glasha looks at you, you blush. When she sees your semi-hard penis, you flush deeper. It twitches under her gaze, and she smiles.

“Kneel, pet.”

You do, dropping to the ground carefully. You look up at her, again struck by her beauty. She’s dressed today in a deep blue tunic and leggings, which flatter her figure. You lean forward and rub your cheek against her leg, trying to emulate an actual pet. Thinking about what a kitten might do.

“Good girl,” Glasha says. “You’re getting the idea.”

She walks over to  her desk, sits down, and picks up some correspondence. She’s half-turned so you can reach her, but so you have to work for it a bit. You bite down on a smile, and crawl over to her. You headbutt her knee when you get there, and begin rubbing against her, thinking about how you’ve seen cats behave when they want their owners’ attention.

You rub against her, leaning against her legs, and pacing back and forth. You get your whole body into it, but start with your cheek, marking her with your scent. You’re her pet. She’s your mistress. You adore her and want her to pay attention to you.

Glasha reaches down and pets your head. You lean into it. She keeps petting. You settle down at her feet, sitting there and awaiting further instructions. When none come, you look up at her. She’s reading her letter. You don’t have her full attention.

You move around her, shifting so you’re on the other side of her. She switches how she’s holding the letter, and pets you more, but you still only have half her attention. You lean up, and begin batting at her knee. Demanding her focus.

“Did you want something, pet?” Glasha asks, amusement clear in her voice. Her gaze slants your way, and her lips quirk upwards. You like that you’ve made her smile.

You blink up at her, and bat at her leg again. She runs her fingers through the hair on your head, petting you, but doesn’t do more. You lean into it. You want her attention, you want her to focus on you, but already you see you’re losing her. The letter in her other hand is pulling her attention away.

You climb up her, until you’re sitting in her lap. One of her arms comes around you instinctively. You rub your face against hers. Her tusk scrapes against your cheek, but it’s something you enjoy. She kisses your cheek. You turn, and offer her your mouth.

She claims it, hungrily. Her mouth slants over yours, her tongue demands access to your mouth. You moan into her mouth as she pulls you tight against you and pillages. When she pulls away a moment later, you’re panting.

“It seems my pet is a dirty girl, too.” She murmurs. She sets her letter down on her desk. You feel triumphant.

Her lips descend on you again, she nibbles on your neck, starting just below your ear and working her way down to your shoulder. You can’t stop the little gasps and moans that escape your lips. You’re not sure you would if you could.

One hand cups your rear. The other comes up and teases your nipple, playing with it. You arch into her hand. She chuckles, and continues lavishing attention upon your neck. Her tusks scrape across the tender skin, sharp but never scratching. You’re panting outright, making mewling noises and squirming desperately in her lap.

“Mistress,” you gasp. “Would you please fuck me?”

She tweaks your other nipple, and you moan. You’re a writhing mess in her lap, and you can tell she’s enjoying the way you’ve come undone in her arms so easily.

“Do you think you’ve earned it?” Glasha asks.

“Yes, Mistress,” you whine. You lean into her, wiggling in her lap and rubbing your cheek against her, desperate for more.

You’ve never once given thought to being someone’s pet, but you really like this. You like playing this game, earning her attention, and being her good girl. You’re hard as hell, and you want her to touch you more.

“I’m not sure you have,” Glasha says. “I think you need to work for it more if you want me to fuck you.”

“Please, Mistress. Tell me what to do.”

“Get on your knees again,” Glasha says. Her voice is soft but firm, and you love the shiver it sends down your spine.

You scramble off her lap, onto the floor. You kneel and smile up at her.

“Good girl.”

Glasha takes her time. She removes her tunic, folds it, and sets it aside. She slides her leggings down her hips just enough to free her erection. She watches you and strokes herself slowly a few times. You whimper. Spirits but she’s beautiful like this. She’s in command, but her skin is starting to flush, and she’s showing herself to you like this, and you just want to taste her, but until she tells you you can, you know you’re not allowed.

“Show me with your mouth how bad you want me to fuck you,” Glasha says. Her voice is rough, but still firm.

You scramble forward on your hands and knees, positioning yourself between her thighs. You lick along her length slowly, from root to tip, before taking her into your mouth. It stretches your jaw almost uncomfortably, but you want to please your mistress, so you work to swallow as much of her penis as you can.

Glasha groans and strokes your head, letting you continue to do what you want, but giving you reinforcement that you’re pleasing your mistress.

You take more of her into your mouth, and tease the underside with your tongue. You hear her breathing change, growing more ragged. You reach to touch yourself, to give yourself a bit of relief.

“Stop,” Glasha says. You pull away. “Did I say you could touch yourself?”

“No, Mistress,” you reply. “I’m sorry, Mistress.”

“Get on the bed, pet.” Glasha says. “I want you to lay down on your back with your hands on the headboard.”  

You crawl over there quickly, and position yourself as she asks. She removes the rest of her clothing before she joins you on the bed.

“I should punish you,” she says, looking down at you, “but since this is your first time, you perhaps did not know better. You do not pleasure yourself without my permission. Now, do not remove your hands from the headboard, pet.” She grabs a pillow. “Lift your butt.”

When you comply, she wedges a pillow underneath you. You look up at her.

“Have you done this before?” Glasha asks.

“No, Mistress,” you say.

“Fuck,” she groans. “I’m going to take it slow, pet. If anything hurts, or you want to stop, let me know.”

“Yes, Mistress.” You say.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” she says, leaning down and giving you a long kiss. You melt into it as her tongue thrusts into your mouth. She pulls back, and kisses down your body. Her tongue laves over your nipples one at a time, bringing them to aching peaks. You arch, wanting more. She nips, and you nearly come undone.

You’re achy, and you can feel yourself dripping. You need her so badly, and all you can do right now is whimper as she lavishes attention on you. She licks and nibbles and kisses her way down your torso. Her hands and lips trail along your body, touching sensitive spots, making you almost weep in desperation.

When she kisses near your penis, you almost thrust at her, but stop yourself. Instead, she kisses down your thigh. Her tongue and lips and tusks tease the back of your knee, and the sensitive area has you whimpering. It tickles but it feels so good, and you know she wants you to stay still so you fight the urge to squirm away. She kisses her way back up your other thigh. Still she doesn’t touch your penis.

All it would take is the slightest breath upon it and you would cum. Perhaps she knows it, and that’s why she’s drawing this out.

Your whole body is tingling with pleasure from the way she’s been stroking you, kissing you, nibbling on you. She’s taking your time with you and you’re a quivering mess and loving every moment of it.

She reaches down and slowly removes the tail from your butt. It’s strange, almost a good feeling. Your breathing hitches. She tosses it aside and lubes up her fingers again. As before, she works them into you slowly, adding one at a time, making sure you’re enjoying it.

And gods are you. You love the way she takes control of you and your pleasure. You love the feeling of fullness you get as she thrusts into you with her fingers. You’re even enjoying the slight burn and stretch. Soon you’re moaning, fighting to keep your hands on the headboard, and she’s only using her fingers.

“Mistress, please,” you finally beg.

“What’s that?” She asks, still thrusting in and out of you with her fingers.

“Please Mistress,” you whine. “Fuck me, or touch me. Please, I want to cum, Mistress.”

“Such a needy little girl,” she says. She withdraws her fingers from you, and you whimper at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

She slathers more lube over her penis, and then she’s pressing it at your entrance. Glasha moves ever so carefully, and you bite your lip as you feel yourself stretch to accommodate her. But she’s prepared you well, and there’s more pleasure than pain. When she’s all the way in you, she lets out a shaky breath.

“Gods you feel good, pet.” She pulls back and thrusts into you again slowly. You let out a moan that is almost a whimper. It’s so good. Your mistress feels amazing inside you. She moves again, and as her speed builds, you get closer and closer to your climax.

“Please Mistress, I’m so close.” You manage to gasp.

“We cum together, pet.” She says, thrusting into you faster and harder now. You see the signs that she’s close, and you try to hold on, just a little more. Then you feel her spill inside you, and you let go. You cry out as you orgasm.

The two of you remain like that, breathing heavily and catching your breath for a few minutes before Glasha pulls out. She shifts, and gathers you into her arms. She peppers your face in quick kisses, cuddling you close to her body. You relax against her.

“You’re such a good girl,” she murmurs.

She continues showering you in praise as she cleans both of you up. There’s a hot bath, a snack, a cup of tea, and holds you close.

“Tomorrow you can give me an answer about staying or going home.” She says, once you’re feeling settled into your own skin again. “Tonight, you may choose if you want to sleep in your bed or mine.”

You already know what your answer is going to be, but you understand that she wants to wait so you don’t feel manipulated. Still, there’s no question that you want to sleep in her bed.

“May I sleep with you, Mistress?” You ask.

“Of course, my pet.”

Glasha takes you to her bed once more, holding you in her arms as you fall asleep.

* * *

When you wake, it’s to find Glasha beside you in bed, reading a book. Breakfast sits on a tray next to the bed. One of her hands is idly running through your hair, but when she realizes you’re awake, it stills. She looks over at you, and gives you a smile.

You’re struck once again by how beautiful she is. Her hair is tied back, her rich green skin almost seems to glow in the morning light. Her dark eyes are intelligent and kind. Her lips are as soft as they look, and her tusks are sharp, but feel so good when they drag across your skin.

You think about all the time you’ve spent together. About the conversations you’ve had, and the way she listens to your thoughts. About how much you look forward to your dinners together.

You imagine for a moment, a life without her in it, and you know that that is not what you want.

“I want to stay, Glasha,” you tell her.

“Are you sure, Princess?” She asks. For the first time since you met her, she looks nervous. She shifts, so she’s sitting up all the way, and sets aside her book. “I need you to be sure.”

“Glasha-” you say, but you’re too choked up to continue. Instead, you reach out and caress her cheek. She leans into it, her eyes closing. Your thumb strokes her. “Glasha, I love you, and I want to stay here with you.”

Slowly, carefully, she pulls you into a crushing embrace.

“You’ve made me so happy, Princess.” She presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I post these stories first on my tumblr; https://aelia-likes-monsters.tumblr.com/post/175106418536/the-captive-princess


End file.
